Graveyard Shift
by The Inamorata
Summary: Kirk is intrigued by Chekov's youthfulness and innocence, and gives him an unexpected visit on the Bridge in the middle of the night. Kirk/Chekov. SLASH. SMUT. ONESHOT.


**Title: Graveyard Shift**

**Author: The Inamorata**

Originally posted in the st_xi_kink community on LiveJournal.

PLEASE JOIN THE KIRK/CHEKOV C2!

A/N: I don't have experience in these sorts of sexual acts, so any constructive criticism will be extremely helpful.

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They called it the graveyard shift, because minimal lights were on and the dull hum of the engines sounded like ghosts recalled from the afterlife. Chekov was alone on the bridge, Sulu--being his usual graveyard shift companion--had just left for his half-hour break in the rec room. He yawned, extreme boredom making him sleepier than usual.

Pavel Chekov was not raised to fear ghosts, but he couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine as he sensed someone behind him. He was sure he heard the doors to the turbolift slide quietly open, light footsteps on the tiled floor. He didn't bother looking--Sulu probably forgot his meal card, or something. But the light breath suddenly on his neck nearly sent him flying out of his chair.

"C-Captain!" he stuttered, his heart racing a mile a minute as he tried to resettle his nerves.

"Just checking in," Kirk whispered, his voice unnecessarily quiet, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Did I frighten you?"

"Aye, sir," Chekov admitted, yawning widely.

"Adorable…" Kirk muttered, reaching out a hand to touch a curl that had settled just below Chekov's ear.

"What?" Chekov asked, coming out of his yawn, having missed the Captain's statement.

"Nothing, just a fly on your shoulder," he replied smoothly, giving the aforementioned shoulder a quick dust. "Are you tried?"

"Aye sir," Chekov replied, settling back in his chair and swiveling to look dully at the view screen. "Graveyard shift is incredibly dull."

"I've got the perfect medicine for that," Kirk said, turning the chair so Chekov was facing him. He leaned his face in closer, giving a quick sideways glance for theatrics, as if it were some big secret.

Chekov was intrigued; anything to make him stay awake through the boring night was worth it. Or so he thought.

"What is it?" he asked, he himself leaning in so their faces were only inches away.

Kirk paused, staring deeply into Chekov's eyes.

"You're eyes are gray," he said, relaxing his neck and tilting it slightly to one side, like a collector observing a painting. "I never noticed that before."

"Aye, but what is the secret?" Chekov's eager eyes were wide with curiosity, specks of wet rheum beginning to build up in the corners.

Kirk reached toward the same curl again, twisting it around in his fingers. Chekov did nothing but wait silently, wondering if the Captain was trying to tease him with suspense. Kirk stopped, his palm lowering to rest gently on Chekov's shoulder. He met the young Ensign's eyes again, just for a split second, before quickly leaning in and kissing him on the lips.

Chekov was so surprised that at first he did not resist. He let Kirk ravish his lips, his tongue forcibly entering and dancing around with his own. It was then that Chekov realized that this might not be the best of ideas. His mind reconnected with his body, and his hands feebly attempted to push the Captain away. But it was no use; Kirk's arms were locked around his body, pinning him into the chair.

For a moment Chekov managed to break his lips free as they both came up for air.

"Captain!"

"Shh, you're feeling more awake now?" he asked, although both knew the answer. Kirk's sudden actions had made all thoughts of sleep impossible. He made a line of kisses up Chekov's jaw line and to his ear, which was halfway covered in curls. He buried his nose in them, inhaling the scent of the young Ensign's shampoo--coconut, was it?--before returning to his previous position.

"I'm the Captain," he whispered, moving his hands down to Chekov's legs and spreading them apart, leaving him a space to kneel one knee on the chair. He cupped Chekov's face in his hands, feeling his soft, youthful skin on his palms, and kissed him again. "Indulge me."

Chekov was still reluctant, passive; his mind was telling him that he didn't want this, but his body was clearly thinking otherwise. He could feel himself hardening against Kirk's leg, and surely the Captain could feel it as well. Regardless of his common sense in the matter, this was Captain Kirk--and for his Captain, he would do anything.

Kirk stood and pulled Chekov up with him, their lips still sealed together. The Captain pushed him two steps backwards, and broke the kiss to turn the Ensign around so his back was facing him. Chekov bent over, his stomach pressed against his control board, and he had enough sense to click the safety lock to prevent any actions from the unintentionally pushed buttons.

Kirk weaved one hand around those brown curls, his other snaking around Chekov's waist to undo the buttons of his trousers. He plunged his hand into Chekov's pants, immediately finding his erection and stroking it. He began to move his hand faster and faster, and after only a few quick pumps Chekov was moaning and shuddering, his eyes squeezed shut as he reached climax.

The erection faded and Kirk removed his hand, giving Chekov a little kiss on the neck. "My turn."

Even after Kirk let go, Chekov remained splayed across his panel. Kirk turned and walked to the center of the Bridge, sitting in his chair. A few seconds after, Chekov followed, his pants still open and everything fully in view.

Kirk motioned for Chekov to kneel before him, and he did so. With shaky hands he knew exactly what to do, and fumbled around with the buttons before finally releasing Kirk's growing erection. But the Captain wasn't young like Chekov; it took much more than a few finger strokes to get him off.

Once again his hand wound through Chekov's delicious curls, feeling the texture on his fingertips. He pulled the Ensign closer until his lips were around him, licking and sucking his head like he'd done this before, though not yet a master at it. Kirk closed his eyes and leaned his head back, wondering who it had been with, and when, but the thought was brief. Chekov's mouth was moving with an increasing speed, his halfway-inexperience someone erotic in its own right.

When he felt close to coming he pulled the curly head away, employing Chekov's soft hands to finish the job. He moaned with pleasure at the climax, drawing it out and enjoying it. When it was over he sat for several moments with his eyes closed, sitting so still with his breathing even that he could be asleep.

"Captain, he'll be coming back soon," Chekov said quietly, looking nervously at the clock; only five more minutes until Sulu's break was over.

Kirk opened his eyes to find Chekov exactly as he had found him before the entire ordeal, albeit his hair a bit disheveled. He looked around for a moment before collecting himself and buttoning his jeans. He was smoothing his hair when the doors of the turbolift opened and Sulu stepped onto the Bridge.

"Captain, what are you doing on the Bridge?" he asked, surprised to see him. Chekov was back in his normal position of staring at the view screen.

"Just… checking in," he said, giving Sulu a pat on the shoulder as he stepped into the turbolift.


End file.
